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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23098705">Alligator Skin Boots</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sotakeabitofcalpol/pseuds/sotakeabitofcalpol'>sotakeabitofcalpol</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Are You Dead? [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, It’s sorta a passive suicide, Painkillers, Suicidal Thoughts, Virgil Angst, human! au, vent fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 13:09:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>428</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23098705</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sotakeabitofcalpol/pseuds/sotakeabitofcalpol</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Twinkle twinkle little star<br/>Alcoholics don’t get far</p><p>Aka the briefest look into Virgil’s fickle relationship with actually wanting to die, painkillers and alcohol</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Are You Dead? [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1415134</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>39</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Alligator Skin Boots</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Oh boy ok this wasn’t on any sort of plan but I was gonna write a separate vent but then I remembered I neglected this au so here y’all go.</p><p>Definitely pay attention to trigger warnings; it’s sorta half an attempt</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He’s tired.</p><p> </p><p>He’s always tired, really, he doesn’t sleep enough to ever feel well-rested, only ever like he’s caught up the debt of one night, an invisible currency that costs more than it has value.</p><p> </p><p>Tonight is a bit different, though, because he’s tired in the way that means he’s halfway. And halfway is always worse, because it’s weighing up pros and cons that wouldn’t matter with daylight.</p><p> </p><p>Plus, he’s out of sleeping pills. That’s not ideal.</p><p> </p><p>That means this feeling’s going to build and build and build until he can’t stop it. That’s not ideal. He’s been...well, not exactly clean, or free from the thoughts, but he hasn’t actually had to fight to resist them for a while. If he doesn’t shut down anything that could house the idea soon he’ll be forced to.</p><p> </p><p>The bathroom cupboard, a shallow thing with a mirror on the front, cleanest thing in the room apart from the well-worn and too-often cleaned toilet and patch of tile in front of it, is where he ends up. The bathroom cupboard, with well-worn hinges, starting to creak, that holds far too many types of painkiller and miscellaneous pills that he won’t trust. The bathroom cupboard, that he numbly removes some painkillers from and takes back to his room.</p><p> </p><p>His desk has a few things hidden in it that he probably shouldn’t have, but the old flasks and bottles with siphoned spirits hidden in are his priority now. He finds one easily, a Pepsi bottle half-full of amber liquid that he swallows the pills with before he identifies whiskey.</p><p> </p><p>He lies back down, and decides to flick through Tumblr to pass the time till his eyelids droop.</p><p> </p><p>They don’t, at least not before his wrecked teeth complain about the texture of the alcohol on them, so he stands to grab some gum. The room spins beneath him.</p><p> </p><p>Not an uncontrollable spin, not like some of the drugs they’ve put him on before, more like his attempt at an OD back when he was young, too impatient to google a lethal dose. He probably should have actual checked what he was taking, but...</p><p> </p><p>Well, if he lies back down and the thing that claims him is stronger than sleep, at least he won’t have to fight it any more. Maybe he just won’t wake up again.</p><p> </p><p>The lack of alarm he feels at that is worrying, and probably indicative of something, but his head is a bit spirally, so he decides that’s a question for if he wakes up tomorrow.</p><p> </p><p>Unintentional, but not unwelcome.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title doesn’t fit, so whoops.</p><p>Life’s rough. Hopefully it’ll get better and my brain will shut the fuck up, but...yeah.</p><p>Hope you...*enjoyed*? And stay safe, heathens.</p><p>EDIT: Currently I’m in a pretty bad headspace with regards motivation and *maybe* triggering myself through writing stuff (still need to work that out) so this series is on hold indefinitely. Apologies.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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